


it's our time now if you want it to be

by ohmcgee



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Drunk Sex, Infidelity, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, minimal angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Roy and Tim are roommates and they fuck up a lot and have to figure shit out. But mostly porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's our time now if you want it to be

**Author's Note:**

> Main pairing is Roy/Tim, but there is background/side pairing of Conner/Tim. That would be the infidelity bit. If that bothers you, I'd suggest passing on this one.

“Roy,” Dick says after he barges in like he still lives there, a six pack in each hand. “You have _got_ to move. The elevators here never work. I can’t feel my _legs_ \-- hello, there’s someone on your couch.”

“Oh,” Roy says with half a slice of cold pizza hanging out of his mouth, takes the beer from Dick and goes to put them in the fridge. “Tha’s m’ new roommate, Tim.”

“Huh,” Dick says, his eyebrows scrunching together. “I thought you said you hadn’t put that ad up yet.”

“He didn’t,” the kid from the couch says without looking up from his laptop. 

“Then how --”

“He saw me circling ads in the paper at that shitty coffee house down the street and asked me to move in like an idiot.”

Dick sighs. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” 

Roy yelps when Dick smacks him in the back of the head. “He’s cool, Dickie! Plus, he can actually pay rent unlike _some_ assholes.”

“Hey,” Dick says, color filling his cheeks. “You know the economy is shitty right now.”

“Yeah yeah,” Roy grins. “Or you just wanted to move back home and mooch off Bruce till you’re thirty.”

“Or that,” Dick grins bright and grabs a slice of pizza from the same box of leftovers Roy brought home last night from the store and hops up on the edge of the counter. “So, Timmy,” he says with a mouthful. 

“Tim.”

“Right. So, what do you do and stuff?”

“Oh,” Tim says, like he didn’t expect Dick to want to talk to him. Roy pegged that about him as soon as he walked up to him in the coffee house. Not shy exactly, but kind of skittish. Definitely doesn’t know how pretty he is. Too smart for his own good. _That_ type. “I go to school.”

“School,” Dick says thoughtfully. “Huh. I tried that for a while, but then --”

“But then he realized it’s not exactly how they portray it on Animal House and he decided he’d rather be a pizza delivery boy for life instead.” Roy finishes for him. 

“Whatever,” Dick says. “I make _awesome_ tips.”

“Uh huh and how _is_ the hottie in 31B, Dickie?”

“Shut up,” Dick mutters and blushes. “That was _one_ time.”

“Sure it was,” Roy snorts and Dick flips him off, then says, “ _Anyway_ ,” and turns back to Tim. “What are you going to school for?”

“Business, mostly,” Tim says. “My mom owns her own company and one day I guess it’s going to be mine, so I -- yeah, this is usually the part where people’s eyes start to glaze, don’t feel bad.”

“No!” Dick says, looking embarrassed. “I mean yeah, that sounds hella boring. But I mean, a _company._ That’s gotta be like...help me out here, Roy.”

Roy just laughs at him. “Can you imagine Bruce trying to get you to take over Wayne Enterprises?”

“Oh god,” Dick groans. “He brought it up once.”

“That before or after the trip to Cancun?”

“Heh,” Dick says. “Definitely before.”

“You guys have known each other for a long time, haven’t you?” Tim asks and Roy realizes they’re doing it again, that whole forgetting-someone-else-is-in-the-room thing that Jay always slaps them around for.

“Pretty much forever,” Dick says and throws his arm around Roy, pulling him in for a hug and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Hey, Timmy --”

“Tim.”

“Yeah,” Dick says as Roy tries to untangle himself from the prison of Dick’s arms. “You should come out with us tonight. Watch Roy and the girls play.”

“Uh,” Tim says, blushing lightly and Roy smacks Dick on the arm.

“My _band_ ,” Roy laughs. “He means the band I’m in. We’re playing tonight at the bar a few blocks over. You should come.”

“I don’t know,” Tim says, glancing at his laptop. “I’ve got a lot of homework to finish.”

“You gotta have fun some time, right?” Roy says, doing that thing with his mouth that usually gets him out of trouble, but works well for getting other people _into_ it too. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Well,” Tim says, chewing on his bottom lip in a way that really shouldn’t be getting Roy’s dick’s attention. “The rest of my week’s pretty packed, so...why not?”

“Sweet,” Roy says, handing him a beer. “Shit, you are even old enough to drink that right?”

Tim just grins up at him and twists the cap off with the edge of his shirt. 

“Now see,” Dick says, poking him in the arm. “That is exactly the kind of thing you would have found out if you’d _actually_ interviewed people.”

Roy pushes him off the edge of the counter and finishes the rest of his pizza. 

 

: : :

 

Donna punches him so hard in the shoulder when Dick tells her about Tim that it’s guaranteed to bruise before the night’s over. 

“Roy Harper!” She shrieks. “He could be an axe murderer!” Then she turns to Tim with her margarita and pokes him in the chest with her free hand. “Are you an axe murderer?”

“He’s a business major, Donna,” Roy snorts and hands Tim a drink, something bright and blue that reminded him of Tim’s eyes. Fuck, he’s gotta stop thinking about shit like that. He’s known this kid all of twelve hours _and_ he just signed a twelve month lease. There is absolutely no way that could not end up sour. “I think I’m safe.”

“You think,” Tim says, raising an eyebrow as he wraps his lips around the straw and sucks. “She’s right. I could be a highly intelligent sociopath. I might kill you in your sleep.”

“Or,” Roy says, smirking. “You could be a straight A student with a four point oh GPA who’s never so much as served detention and isn’t actually old enough to be drinking that. Yeah, you’re not the only one good with a computer, sweetheart.” He winks.

Tim blushes at that and it’s such a pretty contrast against his pale skin it makes Roy think about that painting phase he went through a few years ago until Dick bumps into him with Kori hanging off his arm, spilling beer all over him. 

“Jesus christ, Dickie,” Roy laughs and licks some beer off the back of his wrist. “Maybe lay off on the pre-gaming next time.”

“I found Kori,” Dick says about three decibels too loud. 

“This is Kori,” Roy says, turning to Tim. “Kori, meet my new roommate, Tim.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tim says, shaking her hand. “How do you know Roy?”

“Oh, we used to have sex,” Kori says because she’s _Kori_ but Roy’s totally cool with it because he gets to watch Tim turns three shades of pink again. “And he’s in my band.”

“I thought it was _our_ band, princess?” Roy smirks and that’s when Grace stomps over in her bigass combat boots and tells them to stop getting wasted and help her finish setting up. 

“Who’s this?” She says when she sees Tim. “Roy, I thought you gave up twinks for Lent.”

“Don’t pay attention to her,” Roy leans into Tim and says. “She’s just mad about straight girls.”

“Ugh,” Grace says. “The _worst._ ”

“Anyway,” Roy says, trying not to laugh at her. He’s been there, really. But she’s so damn _cute_ when she’s sexually frustrated. “Gotta go. But listen, if we suck --”

“And they generally do,” Dick whispers loudly. 

“Don’t feel bad about leaving early. No hard feelings or any of that shit.”

“It’s cool,” Tim says and Roy can see the blue on his tongue when he speaks. “I’m having fun. I can’t wait to see if you’re as terrible as Dick says.”

“Yeah yeah,” Roy grins. “Dick’s just mad we wouldn’t let him play the tambourine.”

“I LOVE THE TAMBOURINE,” Dick yells from across the table.

“Let’s _go_ , Harper,” Grace says.

“Coming, Gracie,” Roy says, then turns to Tim. “Hey, go easy on those, yeah? You don’t want to turn into that,” he says, nodding at Dick.

“Come _on_ , mother hen,” Grace says, then bodily drags him away before he can think of anything else to say.

 

: : :

 

After the show, Roy changes shirts and heads outside to smoke. It’s barely forty out, but he’s still so hot and sweaty from playing that it feels amazing. He’s still buzzing all over from the adrenalin, his hands shaking a little bit around the lighter, and he closes his eyes when he takes that first drag, leans his head back against the brick and just feels the cold air against his face, smells the steakhouse down the street, the exhaust fumes from the bus that just went by. 

He’s on his third cigarette when Tim walks outside to join him, his face flushed pink, his hair sticking up all over like Kori, or more likely Dick, has had their hands in it. 

“Mind if I bum one?” He asks and Roy reaches for his pack, only to remember he just pulled out the last one, so he offers the one in his mouth to Tim instead. 

Tim takes it and Roy watches his lips when they wrap around it, can taste something fruity and vodka flavored where Tim’s mouth had been when Tim hands it back to him. 

“So,” Roy says. “What’d you think?”

Tim shrugs. His body language is different than before, more relaxed, maybe. Roy wonders exactly how many of those evil blue drinks he had. “Not really my music,” he says. “But you were really into it.”

“I fucking love it,” Roy grins, passing the rest of the cigarette over the Tim. “Playing the drums is like, it’s chaotic and passionate and it’s just fuckin’ messy, you know? Shit, that probably sounds stupid.” He says, running his hand through his sweat-slicked hair.

“Sounds kind of like sex,” Tim says, stomping the butt out with his shoe. 

“Well,” Roy says. “I fucking love that too.”

Tim touches his belt buckle first when he walks up to him, lifts Roy’s shirt up a little and skims his fingers over the tattoo inked on Roy’s hip. “How many do you have?” He asks, his breath ghosting out in front of his lips in little puffs of white. 

“A lot,” Roy says, then he’s tasting the nicotine on Tim’s tongue, the Hurricane he’d had during the show, and he gets his hands on Tim’s waist, on his ass, fucks his tongue into his mouth and --

“Roy, we’re -- _goddammit, Roy_ ,” Donna swears when she sees them. Tim pulls away first, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth and blushing. “We’re leaving. And I think you should too.”

“Yeah,” Roy says, thankful in a way that she came out when she did, because he and self-control have never really seen eye to eye. “Thanks, Donna. Good show, babe.”

“You too, babe,” Donna says. “See you later.”

“Nice meeting you,” Tim says and Donna just shoots him a pitying look before she pastes on a smile and says, “See you around, sweetie.”

 

: : :

 

Fortunately, Tim passes out just about as soon as they walk in the door, which Roy kind of expected and is equally grateful for. Tim kept turning his head in the cab ride over and looking at Roy like he wanted to say something, but luckily it never came out. Roy will be able to do damage control a whole lot better in the morning, when he’s sober and not likely to drop to his knees as soon as he looks at Tim.

Still, lying in bed while he tries to fall asleep, all he can think about is Tim’s fucking mouth, how soft and pretty it is, how it’d look even prettier wrapped around his _dick._

“Fuck it,” Roy grumbles and pushes the covers down, thinks about Tim as he gets his hand around his dick, about how much he fucking hates Donna for walking out when she did, how he could’ve grabbed Tim’s tiny hips and gotten him to grind down on his thigh. He wants to know what Tim looks like when he comes, what he _sounds_ like --

Roy bites his tongue when he comes, making a mess all over his fingers and his belly. He doesn’t even bother to clean up before rolling over and passing out. He’ll deal with that in the morning too.

 

: : :

 

Donna drags his ass out of bed at ten the next morning. Tim’s already gone to class and Donna flings the curtains open and pulls the sheets off of him.

“You and I are having A Talk,” she says, then makes a face. “Right after you shower. Gross.”

“I hate you,” Roy mumbles and rolls directly onto the floor. 

When he gets out of the shower, Donna has at least put on a pot of coffee and there’s a sack of McDonald’s on the counter with a biscuit and hash browns. 

“You eat,” she says. “I’ll talk.”

Roy grunts in agreement and sits down next to her on the couch after he grabs a cup of coffee.

“You cannot sleep with him,” she says. “For so many reasons, but the most important one being he’s your roommate and you kind of need him to stay that way if you want to keep this place.”

“I know, Donna,” Roy sighs, spitting biscuit crumbs everywhere. 

“Apparently you don’t,” Donna says, more pitying than harsh. “So I’m here to remind you.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Roy says after taking a swallow of coffee.

“I know you didn’t,” Donna says. “But do you ever? It’s just, he seems like a good kid, Roy.”

“Right,” Roy says sharply. “And you don’t want me to fuck him up. Right?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Roy sighs and scrubs at the stubble on his face. “Christ. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s what I’m here for, remember?”

“To keep me from fucking my life up even more than it already is?”

“Yes,” Donna beams at him. “Now eat your disgusting food and go plan the incredibly awkward conversation you’re going to have with Tim later. I’ve gotta go to work. And don’t forget, practice at six.”

“Ugh,” Roy says. He can’t think about playing the drums with the way his head is pounding right now. “You’re the worst human.”

“You love me,” Donna says, leaning down to peck his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Love you,” Roy says, reaching out to hug her waist before she leaves. “And thank you.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Donna says, peeling him off of her. “You know, if I was the human embodiment of a train wreck.”

“Weren’t you leaving?” Roy narrows his eyes at her and Donna just laughs, blowing him a kiss before heading out the door.

Roy lets his head fall onto the table.

“Fuck.”

 

: : :

 

Tim’s still not back by the time Roy needs to leave to meet up with the girls for practice. It sucks because he spent pretty much all day going over the conversation they were going to have and what he was going to say and praying that Tim hadn’t decided to move out already, so when he realizes he might not even see him for the rest of the day, Roy just shoots him a text. Donna would call him a pussy for doing it that way, but Roy knows If he doesn’t get what he has to say out soon, he might not ever say it. 

_Hey_ , he types out in the elevator, which is actually working today, fuck you, Dick Grayson. _Are we cool?_

Or maybe he’ll just chicken out and be a vague asshole. Whichever. 

_Yeah?_ Tim texts back almost immediately. _Why wouldn’t we be?_

It’s not the conversation he meant to have, not the one he was _supposed_ to have, but it still makes Roy feel about a trillion times better. 

_Just checking._ Roy texts back. _You were pretty wasted last night._

He gets another reply when he gets out of the elevator.

_Tell me about it. I’ve been in class and study group the whole day. :|_

Roy grins as he’s walking down the street. Donna and Kori’s loft is just a few blocks away. 

_Poor baby. Should’ve listened to your pal Roy when he told you to go easy on the pretty blue drinks._

_Lesson learned,_ Tim texts back a few minutes later. _Nothing that pretty can be good for you._

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it,” Roy says out loud and crosses the street. 

 

: : :

 

It’s about eleven by the time Roy gets home, but he can hear the tv going while he’s trying to dig his keys out of his pocket, so apparently Tim’s still up. He’s wondering if they should still have The Incredibly Awkward Conversation until he walks through the door and sees a guy he doesn’t recognize on the couch with Tim. Someone he goes to school with from the looks of it, they’ve both got books and laptops open, the tv just background noise.

“Oh hey,” Tim says. “I didn’t know when you’d be back. Is it okay --”

“You live here too, remember? That’s what that fat check every month is for,” Roy grins and shrugs out of his jacket, leaving it hanging on a chair. He’s still super sweaty from practice and needs a shower asap. “Besides, my friends are over here all the time. Invite whoever you want, we’ll have a party.”

“Thanks, Roy,” Tim says, then chews on his lip for a second like he’s thinking about something, then says, “This is Conner. My boyfriend.”

Conner gets up and shakes his hand. “So you’ll probably be seeing a lot of me,” he grins. He’s built like a linebacker and possibly chiseled out of marble and oh right, he’s Tim’s boyfriend.

“Sounds good,” Roy says, only briefly glancing at Tim. “Make yourself at home. I’m gonna eat and then crash, probably.”

“We’ll try to keep it down,” Tim says.

“Don’t worry about it,” Roy says. “I sleep like the dead. You guys have fun or whatever.”

“Nice meeting you!” Conner calls after him as he walks to his room, like the polite, cornfed linebacker he is. 

“Fuck,” Roy says as soon as the door is shut. He sits down on the edge of his bed and has a good laugh about _his fucking life_ until he manages to get himself together and take a shower. 

When he comes out, wearing sweats and an old Beastie Boys shirt with a hole in the armpit, Conner’s gone and Tim’s cleaning up his books and papers. 

“Sorry,” Tim says, scaring the shit out of him when he closes the freezer door. 

Roy walks over to the microwave and puts his tv dinner in it, punches in three minutes and hits start. “For?”

“You know what for,” Tim says, picking at a thread in his sleeve. 

And suddenly, Roy thinks, fuck Donna. He is not going to have this conversation. He’s not going to make this kid stand here and explain himself to him. People do dumb shit. It’s not the end of the world. They’re fine. It’s _fine._ They don’t need to talk about anything. 

“So, how long have you and Conner been together?” Roy asks, taking a beer out of the fridge. He offers one to Tim, but Tim just gives him a funny look and shakes his head.

“A few months,” he says. “Officially. But we were always kind of close. Like you and Dick.”

“Except Dick and I never fucked,” Roy says and grins around the mouth of the bottle when Tim blushes. 

“I just mean, we’d been friends for a long time and it just sort of...happened one day. It just felt right. You know.”

“Not really,” Roy shrugs. “I mean, there was this one chick who I thought was like, my world or whatever, for like five minutes. Crazy as a tree full of monkeys though.”

“Oh,” Tim says, like he’s not really sure what to say to that.

“Anyway,” Roy says, taking his Hungry Man out of the microwave and nearly scorching his fingerprints off in the process. “Conner seems like a nice dude.”

“He is,” Tim says. “He’s kind of like my best friend.”

“And, you know,” Roy says with a wink. “He’s hot as fuck.”

“That doesn’t hurt,” Tim says, grinning a little. “I don’t even think he knows how good he looks. How dumb is that.”

“Pretty dumb,” Roy says, then tears his gaze away from the line of freckles on Tim’s throat. “Anyway, I’m gonna take this to my room, watch some videos about cats, and pass out.”

“Night,” Tim says, then right before Roy turns the doorknob. “Thanks, Roy.”

 

: : :

 

Roy doesn’t see Tim much the next day either. Actually, he never really sees much of Tim. When he said full time student, he meant _full time_ student. He’s either in class or at the library or having study group somewhere, and most of the time when he is home, he’s holed up in his room doing homework or studying. 

Friday is the only day he doesn’t have class or study group, so Roy usually sees him that morning before he has to go into work. Tim likes to sleep _late_ on his days off, always stumbles into the kitchen like a zombie with his hair pointed seven different ways, curls up into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and doesn’t speak until he’s had at least two cups of coffee in him. 

It took him a while to get comfortable with living there, to really feel like it was his home too. For the first week or so he wouldn’t come out of his room unless he was fully dressed down to his shoes. But at some point he’d gotten comfortable enough that he’d walk out in the morning still in his pajamas or whatever he’d slept in. 

This morning he walks out of his room in the tiniest pair of boxer briefs Roy’s maybe ever seen and makes a beeline for the coffee pot, as per usual. He curls up in the chair he always sits at, folding his legs under him, and picks at a blueberry bagel as he waits for his coffee to cool off. 

He's not as scrawny as he looks in the henleys and hoodies he always wears. He’s toned in places that suggests he spends a little time at the gym on campus too, not just the library, and there's a scar on his hip where his boxers are hanging lower on one side that Roy’s never seen until now. 

“What are you up to today?” Roy asks, just to have something to do with his mouth other than let it hang open. 

Tim shrugs and rubs at the back of his shoulder. “Homework,” he says like it’s the foulest word he could think of. “And I’ve got a paper due next week I should work on. And fuck, I’m supposed to --”

“Dude,” Roy says, reaching over and digging his thumb into the knot on Tim’s shoulder. His skin is warm to the touch from sleep and...Roy should really not be touching him, probably. “You need to fucking relax. All you do is go to school, study, come home and do a mixture of both. You’re gonna get burnt out.”

“Yeah,” Tim grumbles and takes another sip of his coffee. “Like I’m not already.”

“Listen,” Roy says. “You’re taking a break from school today, okay? At least for a couple of hours.”

“Where are you --”

“I’ll be right back,” Roy says, grinning as he walks into his room, grabs his bag of weed and lighter from the nightstand, and comes back out. “I don’t have to be at work today until three, so guess what we’re doing.”

“Roy,” Tim says. “I really shouldn’t --”

“No,” Roy shakes his head. “You really should. You’re going to get an ulcer or something the way you push yourself. You deserve this.”

“I deserve to do drugs?” Tim says with a hint of a smirk and Roy just sits down on the couch in front of the coffee table and starts to roll one up. 

“Absolutely,” He says, looking up at Tim as he drags his tongue over the paper. “Now get your skinny butt over here.”

“Uh,” Tim says. “I should put on some more clothes or something.”

“Tim,” Roy laughs. “In about fifteen minutes you aren’t going to care if you’re wearing a top hat and frilly panties.”

“Sorry, my frilly panties were in the wash,” Tim says. “Had to wear these things instead.”

“You think you’re cute,” Roy says. “But my frilly panties actually _are_ in the wash. Now come here.”

Tim still disappears to his room for a minute to pull on a t-shirt and when he comes back Roy’s turned on cartoons and is in the middle of taking the first hit. Tim crawls on the couch next to him the same way he sits on the table, folding his legs under him, and they pass the joint back and forth for a while, laughing occasionally at the Steven Universe episode Roy’s already seen a dozen times. 

It doesn't hit him as hard as it hits Tim, so Roy gets to see the moment the tension bleeds out of him. When Tim finally relaxes he lets his head fall back against the couch and smiles, closing his eyes. 

“Best idea,” he says sleepily, licking his lips. 

“I do have them occasionally,” Roy grins, taking another hit. “Granted, they usually involve illegal substances.”

Roy passes the joint back to Tim and closes his eyes, melts into the couch for a couple of hours maybe, maybe just a few minutes, until he feels Tim's fingers brush his stomach, then he coaxes his eyes open. 

“Can I see them?” Tim asks, dragging his nail over one of Roy’s tattoos and Roy shrugs, tugs his shirt off over his head and drops it on the floor. 

Tim's eyes are wide and lazy as he looks at Roy's chest and Roy closes his eyes again when Tim traces the arrows up and down his right side, the lyrics to some song he was obsessed with when he was seventeen across his collarbone. 

“You have more,” Tim says, like it's not a question, and trails his fingers down Roy's stomach to the top of his jeans, pausing at the button. 

“Go ahead,” Roy says, wetting his mouth, and bites into his lip when Tim slips down to the floor and kneels between his legs to tug open the button on his jeans and pull them apart so he can see the rest of the elaborate geometric art on Roy’s hip and upper thigh. That one took hours and was the most painful one he’d ever gotten. Roy fucking _loved_ that one. He closes his eyes again when Tim starts tracing the design with the tip of his finger and when he opens them again, Tim’s flattening his hands on Roy's thighs and blinking up at him with those long, dark lashes like he’s waiting for something.

Roy could let him. He could shove his jeans the rest of the way off his hips and bring Tim’s pretty fucking mouth to his dick and get lost in there. He could fuck Tim’s mouth the way he’s pretty sure Tim _wants_ it to be fucked, the way he _needs_ it, but --

But he’s not stoned enough to forget all the reasons that’s a terrible idea.

“Tim,” Roy says. “What are you doing?”

Tim just looks at him for a minute or two, strokes the inside of Roy’s thigh with his thumb back and forth, then just shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, crawling back on the couch. “I'm sleepy.”

“Mm,” Roy says, thinking he should probably argue when Tim curls up and lays his head on his thighs, but he can’t really find the motivation. Everything’s soft, hazy, and perfect in the way that makes you feel like nothing in the world is more important than taking a nap.

He’s got plenty of time before work, he thinks as he brushes his fingers through Tim’s hair. It’ll be fine. 

 

: : : 

 

It’s really not fine.

It’s dark out when Roy wakes up, Tim’s gone, and there are three messages on his phone from his boss. 

3:35 _You’re late, Harper._

4:00 _You’ve got ten minutes to get here or I’m finding someone else to do your job._

5:36 _Good luck job hunting asshole._

Roy sighs and grabs his shirt off the floor. “I was tired of eating that shitty pizza anyway.”

 

: : :

 

“Okay,” Roy says. He talked Dick into buying him lunch since out of the two of them, Dick’s the one with the goddamn trust fund and Roy’s the unemployed one, but Dick being Dick could tell something else was up from a mile away and badgered him until he caved. “Promise you won't tell Donna though.”

“Shit,” Dick says. “You fucked him.”

“I didn’t, actually,” Roy says, stealing one of Dick’s fries. “ _Dick._ ”

“But?” Dick asks and slaps his hand away. “You’ve got your own fries.” 

“But,” Roy sighs. “I _really_ want to. And fuck off, mine are burnt.”

“Okay,” Dick says, putting on his thinking face. “I mean. Let’s really think about this. So, what if you sleep with him? It probably won't always end in a shitstorm? Maybe Donna's wrong about this.”

Roy stares at him. 

“Yeah shit, you're right. Donna's never wrong.”

Roy thinks deeply about drowning himself in Dick’s huge puddle of ketchup. 

“Hey,” Dick says, kicking him under the table. “Why do I get the sense that there's more to this than just not wanting to fuck your roommate?”

Roy thinks about telling him. He does. Dick’s his best friend and they tell each other pretty much everything, _too_ much sometimes in Dick’s case, but -- 

“It’s nothing, Dickie,” he says, offering up a smile and hoping it looks convincing. “Just bummed about having to find another shitty job, that’s all.”

Dick gives him a skeptical look, but shrugs and asks him if he wants the rest of his burger, which is actually just bun and tomato when Roy bites into it. “If you say so,” he says. “But I still think it might not be the worst idea.”

“It is,” Roy says. “Just trust me on that.”

When Roy gets home from job hunting Tim’s passed out in the middle of his Statistics book, his glasses crooked on his face, drooling a little on the page. He still has half of a Twizzler in his hand.

Roy smiles and grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over him, puts a sticky note in front of him that says, _Got a new job. Hope you like burritos._

 

: : :

 

When he wakes up in the morning, the first thing Roy hears is Tim’s voice through the wall. Tim’s usually a pretty soft speaker, so that’s already kind of weird. He pulls on a pair of sweats and gets up to see what’s going on. Tim’s door is half cracked and apparently he’s on the phone, though the conversation doesn’t seem to be going very well. Whoever he’s talking to, he doesn’t sound very happy with them. 

Roy tries to give him some privacy and goes into the kitchen to put on some coffee and pop some bagels in the toaster. They’re both crap at cooking, but Roy can manage not to burn a bagel most of the time.

“Sorry,” Tim says when he finally comes out. “You probably heard all that, huh?”

“Nah,” Roy shrugs. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “I guess. It was my mom. She’s -- she can be kind of intense. About everything.”

Roy nods like he has any idea what that’s like. “Sounds like it.”

Tim sighs and curls up in his chair and just stares into space for a few minutes until Roy brings him a cup of coffee. 

“Milk, no sugar, right?” He asks and Tim just looks up and stares at him.

“Yeah,” he says. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh you know,” Roy grins. “You were kind of on my way to the table. It wasn’t too far out of my way.”

“You’re a nice guy too, Roy.” Tim says after a few moments.

Roy just blinks like maybe he misunderstood him. “Uh,” he says. “What?”

“It’s just,” Tim says, looking down at his hands. “I remember you saying that about Conner. That he seemed like a real nice guy and -- you are too. I just wanted you to know that because... I think sometimes that you don’t.”

“Oh,” Roy says, lifting his coffee to his mouth to hide the color in his cheeks. “Um. Thanks, I guess.”

They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, sipping on coffee and eating bagels until Roy can’t stand it anymore and says, “Hey, we’ve got another show tonight. You should bring your friends. And Conner.”

Tim looks at him for what feels like an eternity before he says, “Yeah, okay. That sounds like fun. They’d probably enjoy it.”

“Cool,” Roy says, getting up and rinsing him coffee cup out in the sink. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

“I mean, I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Tim says, picking at his bagel again. “But hopefully I’ll get finished up before the show starts.”

“No worries if you can’t,” Roy says. “But hey, I’ve gotta run or I’m going to have to add Chipotle to the list of places I’ve been fired from before I’ve even started.”

“Is that a long list?” Tim asks, grinning.

“Kid, you don’t even know,” Roy says and throws the rest of his bagel away so he can go get ready.

And hey, if he jerks off in the shower to the image of Tim licking cream cheese off his fingers, well. He’s not a goddamn saint, is he?

 

: : :

 

Roy gets to meet the rest of Tim’s friends before the show. There’s Bart, who’s kind of spazzy and dresses like maybe his Mom still picks out his clothes, Cassie, who is hot as fuck but looks at him like she wants to put his nuts in a blender, and Raven, who apparently has her own band and is bitching about “crazy ass drummers” to Donna already. 

For a minute Roy thinks Conner couldn’t make it until he shows up at Tim’s side with both of their drinks. Roy says hey and stands around for the the appropriate amount of time before making something up about helping Grace in the back and disappears. 

He feels better once they start playing, once his sticks are in his hands and he can feel the bass like it’s his heartbeat. Playing is the best distraction Roy can think of. It takes him completely out of his head, the only thing that matters anymore is rhythm, Kori’s voice hitting all the sweet high notes, Donna hitting every chord fucking perfectly. 

They make it through three songs before Roy looks over and catches Conner leaning in and whispering something in Tim’s ear, his hand on Tim’s leg under the table, and gets distracted. That’s the first time he fucks up and misses a beat and has to pray no one noticed. 

He tries to clear his head, tries to focus on just the music, feel the grain of wood in between his fingers as he wails on the cymbals. It doesn’t work.

The next time he looks over at their table, Tim’s sitting in Conner’s lap, but he’s looking right at _him_. His eyes are big and bright, his cheeks a little pink from the heat or maybe from how many drinks he’s had, and he licks his lips when he sees Roy looking back at him, holds his gaze like he’s daring Roy to look away.

This time when he fucks up Grace snaps her neck around and glares at him. 

“Sorry,” Roy mouths, but after that his confidence is shot and it just keeps happening. The girls are going to rip him a new one after the show and he totally deserves it. 

After the last set Roy prepares himself for the chewing out of a lifetime, but they don’t end up giving him too much shit for it, though that’s probably due to Donna immediately marching off stage and demanding everyone do shots to forget the “epically shit-tastic” show they just had. 

“We should go out,” Dick says with his arms around Roy and Grace. “I wanna dance.”

“You always wanna dance,” Grace says, grabbing his ass. “I still don’t understand why you’re not a stripper anyway.”

“ _Gracie_ ,” Dick says, scandalized. “My body is a treasure! It’s not for sale!”

“Dancing sounds fun actually,” Cassie says. At some point Grace had pulled her down into her lap and she’d just never moved. Typical. “Tim, Conner, you guys coming?” 

“Sure,” Conner grins, snaking his hand around Tim’s waist. “Been awhile since we went dancing.”

Roy meets Tim’s eyes across the table and raises another shot glass to his mouth. 

“Sounds like a plan, then,” he says, slamming it on the table. “Come on, Dickie. Time to show these children how to move.”

 

: : :

 

The best thing about going to the club is that it’s easy for Roy to lose Tim in the millions of people. He downs a few shots, then drags Dick out to the floor and loses himself in the feel of that hot body against his, moving the way _no_ body should be able to move. He tastes the salt on the back of Dick’s neck, grinds on his stupid perfect ass, and for about an hour, Roy forgets about everything that’s fucked up, forgets about how shitty he played, about Conner’s fucking hands all over Tim, and does a couple of more shots when Dick ditches him to go slide between Kori and Donna. 

Before he finishes the last shot, Tim comes up to him. 

“Hey,” he says, sounding slightly out of breath. He’s pink in the face and his skin’s slick with sweat and Roy thinks there might be glitter in his hair and goddammit, if that isn’t a fucking fantastic look for him. 

“Hey,” Roy says. “Where’s --”

“Bart drank too much,” Tim explains. “Conner took him home. Dance with me?”

Tim’s eyes are wide and bright and Roy’s got too much tequila in him to turn _that_ down, so he pays his tab and drags Tim out to the floor with him, spins him around and gets his hands on those skinny hips he has to stare at every fucking morning since Tim’s decided pants are a thing of the past, apparently. Tim’s skin is hot to the touch and so slick Roy’s fingers just slip over the bones, but fuck, he knows how to move. 

Tim leans his weight against Roy and grinds his ass back against him, lets Roy slip his hand up under the hem of his shirt, drag his nails over the little ripples of his abs. When the tempo of the music slows, so does Tim. He lets Roy guide him and Roy sets a slow grind, gripping Tim’s hip with one hand, the fingers of his other one fanned out over Tim’s ribs, holding him as close as possible. It’s so fucking hot Roy’s sweating through his shirt and he’s so hard, Tim’s tight little ass pressed up right against his dick, that Roy realizes it wouldn’t actually take much more of this to have him coming in his pants like a goddamn teenager. 

“Why didn’t you go with him?” He asks in Tim’s ear. 

Tim turns around, wraps his arms around Roy’s neck, grinds down on his thigh. “I was having fun,” he says. “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want...” Roy starts, doesn’t exactly know what he’s going to say, so it’s good that Donna chooses that moment to show up and give Tim some bullshit about Dick needing help with something, and basically drags Roy out of the club by his ear. 

“The fuck, Donna,” he says. “Its fucking freezing out here.”

“Good,” Donna says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because you need to cool off.”

“Donna,” Roy says, wrapping his arms around himself. “Chill. We were just dancing.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Donna says. God, she looks so fucking _disappointed._ “He’s got a boyfriend, Roy.”

“Jesus,” Roy mutters and runs his hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know that?”

“You aren’t acting like it.”

“Fuck!” Roy yells, loud enough for people to hear him a block over. “What do you want me to do, Donna? Please, tell me. Because I honestly don’t fucking know.”

“Roy, I --”

“No,” Roy says, realizes his hands are shaking, so he shoves them in his pockets. “ _Please._ Just. Just tell me what to do, Donna. Please?”

Donna doesn’t tell him how to unfuck everything or how to be a better person, but she does pull him in for a tight hug that last for ages, which might be even better. “I love you,” she says. “But you have to figure this out on your own. You’ll do the right thing. I know it.”

“I think this time you’re wrong, babe,” Roy says, not wanting to let her go.

“Dummy,” Donna says, smiling at him. “I’m never wrong.”

 

: : :

 

Roy tries to give Tim a little space after that. Plus, he’s got this new job that he’s really trying to keep and Tim has finals coming up, so they don’t end up seeing each other much for a couple of weeks. Tim comes and goes, looking a little bit more frazzled each time, and Roy comes home every night smelling like fucking burritos and having dreams about guacamole. 

He’s closing a lot, so he’s usually still asleep when Tim heads out in the morning and Roy realizes he kind of misses seeing what ridiculous thing Tim’s hair is doing every morning and telling him what stupid thing Dick said or how he dumped a whole tray of cheese dip on someone. He just catches little pieces of Tim throughout the day, a bag of half eaten Twizzlers on the kitchen table, a book left open on the couch. The next every now and then, but it’s not really the same.

When he gets home Thursday night, the place is a fucking mess. It’s not like he minds, but generally Tim is all neat and organized. Also, he doesn’t usually pull the high dollar tequila out while he studies. 

“Hey,” Roy says, surveying the area. Tim’s already half-lit by the color in his cheeks and the glaze in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Shots,” Tim says, raising the bottle. “Come have shots with me.”

“Okay,” Roy says, setting down his keys and kicking off his shoes. He really wants a shower first, he still smells like fucking Chipotle, but Tim’s probably too far gone to care. “Is there a special occasion I should know about?”

“Nope,” Tim says, spilling tequila all over the coffee table when he pours Roy a shot. “Just shots.”

Roy knocks his shot back easily, but still looks at Tim suspiciously. “Just, this isn’t like you. Did something --”

“Shh,” Tim says, splaying his tequila-wet fingers across Roy’s lips. “No talking. Just drinking.”

“Alright,” Roy shrugs, licking his lips. He of all people knows what it’s like to just need to escape for a little while, whether it's into a bottle or into someone else. He can give Tim that, seems like he has a lot on his plate anyway. So Roy matches him shot for shot for a while until he’s starting to feel it all over, that pleasant buzz that makes him completely tune out the noise in his head and get lost counting the little line of freckles behind Tim’s ear.

“Just,” Tim says suddenly, waving his shot around, sloshing it on himself. “I fucking _hate_ Statistics, Roy. I hate it. Just because I’m _good_ at something doesn’t mean I want to do it, you know? It doesn’t mean I _like_ it.”

Roy nods, throws back the next shot Tim hands him. “Makes sense.”

“Just because,” Tim says, pausing to lick tequila off the back of his hand, then finishes the shot he’s been waving around. “Just because something is logical, just because it makes _sense_ for you to do it, that doesn’t automatically make you _want_ it. You know? And just because you _think_ it’s what you want, it might not always be what you want.”

“Uh.”

“Like,” Tim says, foregoing a glass altogether and taking a pull from the bottle. Roy gets distracted for a few minutes watching the liquor roll down his chin. “I don’t _want_ to be a business major. I don’t want anything to do with my mother’s awful, boring company. I don’t want _any_ of it.”

“Yeah?” Roy asks, amazed it took half a bottle of tequila to get Tim to open up about this shit to him. “What do you want then?”

Tim just stares at him for a minute with this wide-eyed, shocked expression, like maybe nobody’s asked him that before. “I want to be a photographer,” he says decidedly, almost like he’d rehearsed it in his head. “I want to be a normal twenty year old who doesn’t spend his life in fucking meetings. I want to have _fun._ ” Then he puts the bottle down and crawls into Roy’s lap, thumbs at Roy’s bottom lip and lowers his voice. “Do you know what else I want?”

Roy doesn’t answer him, just grabs onto Tim’s hips and flips him onto his back on the couch, climbs on top of him and fucks his tongue into his mouth. Tim tastes _good_ , like tequila and something sweet and it reminds Roy and the first time he kissed him, right after the first show he came to, thinks about how bad he’d wanted him then and how that hasn’t fucking changed one bit. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but between all the tequila and the way Tim feels beneath him, it’s making it hard for him to remember why.

He kisses Tim’s mouth until it’s swollen and raw, moves down to suck on his neck, too drunk to care that the bruises will be there tomorrow, bruises _everybody_ will be able to see. Tim gets tangled up trying to get his shirt off, so Roy helps him get it off the rest of the way, mouths down his chest and bites at his abs.

“Is this what you want?” He says as he thumbs open Tim’s jeans and Tim just bites his lip, lifts his hips when Roy slides his jeans down. He arches his back when Roy mouths at him through his boxers, says, _please_ when Roy pulls them down and gets his hand around him, and that’s all Roy needs to hear, all he’s ever really _wanted_ to hear. 

Roy swallows him down like he’s starved for it, holds Tim’s hips down on the couch and fucks his face on Tim’s cock until Tim starts moaning and whimpering and grabbing at Roy’s hair, saying _god_ and _please_ and _fuck_.

Roy pulls off and crawls back up Tim’s body, catches his mouth again and kisses him raw, lets Tim taste himself on his tongue and Roy gets his hand between them, wraps it back around Tim’s dick, slick with spit and precome, and squeezes him. 

“You get this noisy for him?” Roy asks next to Tim’s ear as he jerks him off and Tim just gets louder at that and writhes beneath him, tries to fuck into his hand faster. “He make you feel this good, baby?”

“Roy, please” Tim whines. “ _Fuck_ me. I want -- I want you _in_ me.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Roy swears and fumbles with his own jeans, gets them shoved down far enough that he can grab Tim’s hand and put it on his cock. “Lube’s too far away. Just -- oh fuck, Tim --”

“Want you so bad,” Tim pants as Roy fucks into the circle of his fist. “I can’t -- I want -- oh god, Roy. _Roy --_ ”

“Oh _fuck_ , you’re pretty when you come,” Roy groans and spills all over Tim’s hand, lifts his own hand to his mouth and licks Tim’s come off his fingers, then Tim’s grabbing at his face and sucking on his tongue, kissing him until Roy has to gasp for breath. 

Roy rests his forehead on Tim’s collarbone as he tries to catch his breath. There’s a chain of bruises around Tim’s neck in the shape of Roy’s teeth and Roy --

“I broke up with Conner,” Tim says quietly as Roy’s trying to catch his breath and it actually takes Roy a minute to realize what he’s said. “And I dropped out of school.”

Roy’s mind starts spinning. He did what? Oh jesus _fuck_ , he’s wasted. They’re both so _fucking_ wasted and they just -- and Tim --

“Oh,” Roy says and gets up, pulling his jeans up and looking for his shirt. “That’s --”

What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? Thanks? Congratulations? Sorry?

“Roy?” Tim asks, looking up at him. There’s still come all over his belly. Fuck. “What’s wrong?”

“What?” Roy says. It probably comes out louder than he meant it because of all the noise in his head. He feels like his heart’s going to beat out of his chest. “Nothing. I’m -- it’s fine. That’s cool. I just. I’m gonna shower.”

“Roy --”

“You should hydrate,” Roy says on his way to the bathroom to try not to puke. “Or you’ll feel like hell tomorrow. Trust me.”

He shuts the door before Tim has time to say anything else. 

 

: : :

 

The next morning Roy slips out before Tim wakes up and texts Donna to meet him for coffee.

“I fucked up,” Roy says. He’s wearing sunglasses in Starbucks and he had so many extra shots added to his frappacino that Donna has to keep stomping on his foot to keep him from jiggling his leg under the table.

Donna sighs. “Roy --”

“No,” Roy shakes his head. “I _really_ fucked up. I, oh god, Donna. _Help._ ”

“Calm down,” Donna says, reaching across the table and taking his hands in hers. “Tell me what happened.”

“Tim happened.”

“Amazingly, I put that together,” Donna says. “Continue.”

“He has a boyfriend,” Roy says, then winces. “Had a boyfriend.”

“Oh, Roy,” Donna sighs. 

“He -- I tried. I know you don’t believe me, but -- shit, maybe I didn’t. I don’t know. But he kept on...not that that’s any excuse for it, but --”

“Roy,” Donna says, kicking his shin. “Complete sentences or I’m taking your coffee away.”

“Right,” Roy says, chewing on his fingernails instead. “So like, that first night you caught us outside the bar? He kissed _me,_ Donna. I swear. And then he kept -- he just kept flirting and walking around the house half naked and he was always looking at me, you know? Like he had something to say and I kept trying to stop him from saying it because I knew, okay? I knew it was a bad idea.” Roy takes a deep breath. “Normally I wouldn’t care. You know that. But I like him, Donna. I...I really didn’t want to fuck up his life.”

After getting all that out, Roy deflates. He feels drained. He feels like _shit._

“No one says you have, Roy,” Donna says. 

“Yeah,” Roy laughs so hysterically that some of the other customers turn and stare at him. “Except for, you know, I did. Royally.”

“Okay,” Donna says. “How?”

“Last night,” Roy says. “There was tequila. And we fucked around. And oh yeah, he broke up with Conner and quit school! So there’s that.”

Donna just looks at him for the longest time. “And you think this is your fault?”

“ _What?_ ” Roy asks, his voice too shrill. “Of fucking course it’s my fault. I pulled him into my gravitational pull of _suck_ , Donna. I --”

Donna smacks him over the head. “Why are you such a moron?”

Roy rubs the side of his head. “Why are you so confusing? Weren’t you the one giving me lectures on not fucking this kid up?”

“That might be what you heard,” Donna says. “That’s not what I was saying. I was worried about _you_ , you idiot. Of course I thought it was a bad idea for you to screw your roommate, but that’s not it. The way you get attached to people, Roy...and then when I found out he had a boyfriend. I just didn’t want you getting your heart stomped on again.”

“Shit,” Roy breathes out. “Seriously?”

“Roy,” She says, taking his hands again, but frowning. “I’m your friend. Do you really think I’d think that about you? Dick is the biggest man child known to earth, but I still think he can do no harm. I’d still defend him to anyone. You’ve made your mistakes, but I love you. I just want what’s best for you.”

“I love you too,” Roy says, squeezing her hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been an ass. But I still don’t know what the fuck to do. I mean, he quit _school,_ Donna.”

Donna takes another sip of her coffee, leans back in her chair and smirks. “And your arrogant ass actually thinks that’s about you.”

“Uh,” Roy says. “Isn’t it?”

“Generally, no,” Donna snorts. “You’re here because you think you’ve somehow fucked up Tim’s life, but I want you to consider this for a moment: it takes two to tango. He made his own decisions, Roy. And you’re not going to know why he made them until you _talk_ to him. Which I am two thousand percent sure you haven’t done yet, because I know you.”

“Ugh,” Roy says. “Is there a world out there where you’re not right all the time? Cause I wanna go live there.”

“Talk to him, Roy,” Donna says. “Or else.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Roy says. “But only because I’m still sore from the last time you hit me.”

“Whatever works,” Donna grins. “And Roy? You’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Roy mutters. He’s really not so sure about that. 

 

: : : 

 

Roy practices what he’s going to say the entire walk home. He’s still pretty buzzed from the caffeine so he takes the long way, but when he takes the stairs instead of the working elevator, he knows he’s just doing it to stall. 

He’s totally ready to do this until he walks into the apartment and finds Tim in his room, packing his stuff. 

“I’ll be out soon,” Tim says without looking at him, folding a pair of socks and putting them in a suitcase. “Going to stay with Cassie until I find a new place.”

“Oh,” Roy says numbly, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean. If that’s what you want.”

This time Tim actually looks up at him, a coldness in his eyes that makes Roy’s chest _ache_. “I don’t get you.”

“Yeah,” Roy says hollowly. He’s heard that one before. “Tim --”

“What was it? Just some game? Did you only want me because you knew you shouldn’t? Was that it?”

“No,” Roy says, scrambling for the words he prepared on the way over. “ _No._ I --”

“Because I know I fucked up,” Tim says. “But the day I met you, I just. And then I saw you play and I’ve never seen _anyone_ look so intense about something and I thought fuck, I don’t feel that way about _anything._ Until I kissed you. And then --”

“Tim --”

Roy has the words right on the tip of his tongue, but then Tim’s reaching for him again, fisting his hand in his shirt and crashing their mouths together, burying his other hand in Roy’s hair and kissing him fiercely, like he’s trying to prove a point. And Roy goes with it because, fuck, Tim’s _mouth_. It’s small and soft and perfect, fits against his like it was made to, and Roy loves the way he tastes, like coffee and cigarettes and twizzlers. He goes with it because he doesn’t know what to say, never knows what to say, and this is better. This is what he wants. Maybe they don’t have to talk at all. Maybe they can just do this, figure things out with tongues and teeth.

“I mean,” Tim says, breathless when he pulls away, his hand on Roy’s chest. “You feel that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Roy says.

“Then why did you freak out?” Tim asks him. “I thought. I mean, you literally ran away from me, Roy. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

“Ah,” Roy says, scratching his head. “Well. See. I thought you’d broke up with Conner and quit school because of me? It was kind of a lot.”

Tim stares at him. “I can’t decide if that’s moronic or arrogant.”

“I’ll take both.”

Tim snorts. “I broke up with Conner because I realized we were together for the wrong reasons. I had a crush on him forever when we were kids and one time we got drunk and accidentally made out at a party and we just sort of fell together because it seemed like the thing to do. He thinks I’m a dick for cheating on him, of course, but he admitted he never really felt that way about me either. We agreed we’re better off as friends, even though it might take us a while to get back to that. Besides, I’m pretty sure he has a thing for Cassie.”

“Jesus christ,” Roy says. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that mature in my life.”

“Hard to believe,” Tim gives him a hint of a smile. “And as for school, how could you possibly think that had anything to do with you?”

“I dunno,” Roy shrugs. “It made sense at the time. But you have to admit, putting that all on me after we fucked around was a lot to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “I get that. I’d just been sitting on it all day and it just came out. I needed to say it outloud to someone. And I wanted you to know I wasn’t with Conner anymore because I didn’t want you to feel guilty, but apparently that backfired.”

“Heh,” Roy says, sitting down on the edge of Tim’s bed. “Yeah, well. That’s not your fault.” He plucks the camera off of Tim’s nightstand and flips it on. “So. Photography, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tim says, blushing, and tries to snatch the camera out of Roy’s hands. 

“I wanna _see_ ,” Roy grins, flipping through the pictures, then stops on one in particular. “Is that --”

“Roy,” Tim says. “Just --”

“Whoa, that’s me,” Roy says. It’s a black and white of him standing in front of the sliding glass doors that open to the balcony. His ripped jeans are slung low on his hips and he’s got his shirt off, his back to the camera, talking on the phone. His tattoos are dark and sharp and something about the texture makes all of his freckles pop. “Shit, I’m hot.”

Tim laughs and uses the moment to snatch the camera away from him and stuff it somewhere. “That’s what I like about you. You’re so humble.”

“That and my hot body, right?” Roy says and grabs Tim, pulling him down in his lap. He’s not sure if it’s okay to do that yet. Fuck, he’s not sure about anything except -- “You’re not really leaving, are you?”

Tim shrugs. “I can. If you’re still freaked out.”

“I’m a mess,” Roy says, following the ridges of Tim’s spine with his fingers. “And you’re kind of just figuring out who you are.”

“Plus my parents are totally cutting me off,” Tim laughs. He shifts so he can straddle Roy’s legs, push his fingers into his hair. “But if you want me to stay, I think maybe we could be good for each other.”

“Yeah?” Roy says, brushing his mouth over one of the hickeys he left on Tim’s neck last night. “How so?”

“Mm,” Tim says. “How about I wake you up every morning with a blowjob to make sure you get to work on time?”

“My kind of motivation,” Roy says, grazing his teeth down Tim’s throat. “What am I going to do for you though?”

“Right now?” Tim says. “You could fuck me.”

 

Roy’s breath stutters against Tim’s skin. “I could, couldn’t I?”

“If you want to,” Tim says and that’s when Roy grips his hips tight and flips him over. Tim’s head bounces off the pillow and Roy kicks his suitcase off the edge of the bed. 

“Do I --” Roy growls, biting at Tim’s throat. “If you had any _idea_ how much --”

“Roy,” Tim says, smiling up at him. “Stop talking.”

Roy takes a deep breath, still kind of not believing that he can do this, he can _have_ this, without feeling like shit about it. He reaches in the nightstand for condoms and lube as Tim wriggles out of his clothes, then gets out of his own. 

He fucks Tim on his knees, slow at first, just relishing that tight heat, how perfect Tim feels around him, until Tim snaps his hips back and says, _fuck me._ He looks so good like that, his back curved, just taking it, but Roy can’t stand looking at all that skin and not being able to feel it. He hauls Tim up, wraps his arm around his chest and drives into him, holds him so close he can taste the salt on the back of his neck, can paint even more bruises on his throat and shoulder. 

“God, baby,” he pants next to Tim’s ear. “Just wanna stay here _forever._ ”

“Yeah,” Tim says, reaching back and wrapping his arm around Roy’s neck, turning his head to kiss him, wet and sloppy. “Don’t stop. Just --”

Roy reaches around to get his hand on Tim’s dick and Tim bites down on Roy’s lip and comes all over Roy’s hand. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Roy says, swallows every little whimper that Tim makes for him, and when he’s spent Tim goes limp against him, lays his head back against Roy’s shoulder and Roy goes back to pounding into him, his fingers vice-grip tight on Tim’s hips. It doesn’t take long, not after feeling Tim go tight around him like that, not when Tim starts sucking on Roy’s come-messy fingers when Roy brings them to his mouth. 

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Roy gasps, then buries his moan in between Tim’s shoulder blades, wrapping both arms around Tim as he comes inside of him, and stays just like that for the longest time. 

“Wow,” Tim says when Roy finally pulls out and he rolls over. “That. Wow.”

Roy’s too fucked out to say anything, to move hardly. “Mm.”

“Changed my mind,” Tim says, still catching his breath. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Because we’ll never get out of bed?” 

“Yep,” Tim says, turning to Roy with a sleepy grin on his face. “I mean. It could be worse, right?”

Roy nudges Tim’s foot with his at the end of the bed, sees Tim’s suitcase in the corner of his eye when he leans in to press his lips to the teeth marks on Tim’s shoulder. “Definitely.”


End file.
